


Grounded And Shattered Apart

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Coda, Light Angst, M/M, Michael's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-27 08:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael thinks about Alex. When he comes to see him, he both needs him close and wants to push Alex away. What is Michael supposed to do with that feeling?





	Grounded And Shattered Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaadieStuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/gifts).



> Hello :) I'm new here, very new, in fact the only reason I'm here now breaking my heart over Michael and Alex is _Saadie_. I blame you for everything, but you already knew that ;)
> 
> So! This is just a little musing from me over _that_ scene in 1x09. It's just one interpretation, I don't think for a second it's the only one. I also haven't seen anything but Malex clips, so whatever else happens in the episodes I'm mostly oblivious to.
> 
> Enjoy? I think?

Some people in this world seem to be grounded here, centered to their very being. It's as though they already know their purpose in life and what to do with it, already feel where they belong. Michael sees these people, has studied them maybe a few times over the years, trying to work out if _his_ difference is because of who he is, or what. Though Max and Isobel, they have this poise about them, this grace draped over their shoulders that even in their worst moments grounds them with the sense of who they are. They _know_ that they are worth something, important to the people around them. In the same way Michael knows he isn't worth anything, at all.

It's always been this way. Michael knew it for certain the moment the Evans came to take Max and Isobel, and he was left alone. He knew it staring up at a star-filled sky in the middle of a desert begging for _someone_ to come back for him, and nobody answered. He's known it ever since for every person who has looked down on him, passed judgment without knowing a thing about him.

When he was younger, much younger, Michael didn't understand. He'd thought that no matter who a person was, or what they did, they would at least be worthy of belonging somewhere, and with someone. That families were just the norm, and somehow there had been a mix up leaving him constantly outside of one. He'd cried himself to sleep so many nights pleading with whoever might be listening to _fix_ him. To fill this emptiness in him that left him unloveable, and incapable of connection.

As he'd got older, Michael had realized this dream he had of normality, and family, just wasn't realistic. It wasn't something guaranteed for everyone. Not everyone got to find their person or people, and some people were always destined to be alone. On the fringes at least. Separate but together, needed but not always, useful until discarded again. They weren't at fault for treating him this way, and neither was he at fault for being as he was; this was just how life was for some people. No self-pity, and no seething jealousy. This was just how things  _were_.

And then Alex had happened. Alex had been _kind_ to him without any reason for it, without demanding anything in return; Michael had never felt so out of his depth. Alex gave him that guitar just because he _wanted_ to, thought it would be something _nice_ to do. Michael had sat there waiting for the catch. But Alex, he'd just looked fascinated and interested—in  _him_ —and like he would _listen_ when Michael talked, when he tried to describe the chaos in his head.

Alex _is_ the chaos in his head. He has been, ever since he first tried to kiss him. Before then, really; it's not as though he'd never noticed him _looking_ at him. When Alex looks at him he _sees_ who he is, sees past all these walls and words that have layered up as his armor over the years. And Michael _hates_ that, as much as he loves it, as much as it both grounds him and shatters him to pieces in equal parts.

Michael has never felt grounded. Never felt connected to a person like he feels connected to Alex. When he's with him it's like just his presence smoothes out the roughness of every one of his thoughts, calms his racing heart rate, and lets his lungs breathe deep and full like nothing else ever does. Yet when they fight, when they argue, when he has to repeatedly watch Alex's retreating back, it's like the agony of his hammered hand spreads through his body. His entire essence is open and raw, exposed to all the pain he feels around him yet again.

And he's here, he's _here_ , Michael thinks as he sees the familiar car driving towards him, churning up his emotions like the tires are the dirt. Alex is here. Michael wants him here as much as he doesn't, wants the pyrotechnics he asked for as well as for the world to fall silent. He wants to pull him close and never let go again, disappear with Alex into a better existence for them both. And he wants Alex to leave him alone, for good this time. It hurts too much to keep watching him walk away. And it hurts too much to want him like he does. He can never have the things he wants with Alex; he's just not the kind of person who _gets_ that kind of life.

Michael looks down for as long as he can bear it, then looks up as though he's only just noticed Alex is here. He looks into the trailer tempted to go in and slam the door behind him, but the glint of Maria's necklace on the table hits him, bringing back the previous night. Guilt hits him in waves even as he argues with himself it didn't mean anything, and he owes Alex nothing. Even if he's sure he and Maria could hook up a hundred times and it would just be for relief for them both. Though it's impossible to look Alex in the eyes because of it, and at the same time he _wants_ to. He wants to look him in the eye and tell him to _go_. And this time not to try coming back.

He calls the necklace to him without thinking; how the hell did it end up in his _boot_? Michael limps towards Alec still struggling to make eye contact, trying to pretend he doesn't feel all that he feels.

"What are you doing here?" Michael calls out, making his voice sound disinterested and pissed off.

"Um. I, uh… just… what are you doing?" Alex asks as Michael struggles to balance on one foot trying to get this _thing_ out of his boot.

"Something in my boot," he says, like he doesn't know what's there. He could send it away with the barest of thoughts, yet something in him doesn't want to.

"Uh, look, the truth is…"

Alex's words trail off as Michael examines the necklace in his palm. He _wants_ him to see it, to know what it means, but he also _doesn't_. Does he? How can he want to hurt Alex, and at the same time, to not want to? It was Alex who walked away, after it was Alex who kept _looking_ for him. Cracking the scabs on never-healed wounds, when Michael has spent _years_ trying to forget Alex was the one to put them there in the first place. 

But if Alex sees this necklace, if Alex knows the reason for it, then he'll have yet another reason to walk. And this might be the thing that means he won't come back again. Michael can't keep _caring_ for Alex, knowing he'll realize one day there's nothing worth anything in him. That the  _macho cowboy swagger thing_ is  _all_ he has to offer. It's easier for Michael to be the catalyst to send him away than wait to see the light die in Alex's eyes when he gives up on him for the last time.

"That's Maria's necklace," Alex says, his tone changing completely from just a few seconds earlier.

This is it, Michael thinks, his heart pounding in fear, this is the thing that will send him fleeing. And when he sees Alex's back for that last time, he'll have it confirmed; that he's as empty as he feels, that he is worth nothing, that he's impossible to love. He rolls his eyes and shoves the necklace in his pocket as he sighs, feigning disinterest even if his heart's already pleading with Alex not to go.

"What were you saying?" he says, like he wouldn't hang on Alex's every word. Like he's not memorized them; the tone, the cadence, the softness of his voice when Alex really _looks_ at him. Which he always does. Michael struggles to get his boot back on, unsteady for feeling Alex watch him.

"Um… there's a rattle in my car," Alex says. He's a worse liar than _him_. "I was hoping Sanders could look at it."

"Sanders isn't here today, and he's… half blind. So I can—I can check it out," Michael says with his arms flaring wide. He's _offering_ himself to him, asking Alex to stay with him, even though he knows that he can't.

"No it's fine," Alex blurts out, barely able to raise his head to look him in the eye. "I'll—I'll just come back when he's here."

Michael watches him walk, memorizes the lines of Alex for what he tells himself is the final time. This is _it_ ; Michael will catalog this along with all the other images he replays of Alex when he needs to be reminded of why they just can't be together, and why he can't bear to let him go. And when he does he will let himself know this is really goodbye this time. He'll even convince himself he believes it.

Alex comes to a stop. But Michael still can't watch. So he turns, heart racing as he hears Alex get closer again.

"No," Alex says, firmer than Michael is expecting and making him turn back, "I'm tired of walking away. I'm tired of not saying what I wanna say."

Alex's eyes flicker, like he's fighting so hard to keep looking at him, like he's struggling not to turn back around again, and run. This is _not_ anything Michael expected and he's furious for Alex not sticking to the script.

"Then what do you want to say, Alex?" he shouts, arms wide in exasperation as he watches him.

"That I loved you," Alex says with no hesitation even though his voice trembles. Michael keeps walking on autopilot feeling like the ground beneath him might be crumbling for his words. He swallows back the lump in his throat and comes to a stop, knowing Alex has more to say. "And I think that you loved me. For a long time."

Michael can hear the tears in Alex's voice and wants to reach for him, though still wants to flee. He has to look away. But he has to also be truthful with him. Even if this hurts more than anything ever has.

"Yeah," he says, like that one word will ever be enough.

"But we didn't even know each other that well. Did we?" Alex blurts out sounding so confused. Michael wants so badly to comfort him for it, but he _can't_. So Michael stares back, demanding to himself that he will not cry. Even if he feels like sobbing until this agony in him that is _Alex_ and all that he is, is out. "We just—we connected. Like something—"

"Cosmic," Alex finishes for him. Cosmic. Eternal. Overwhelming. He feels it, he's always felt it, and he's always known Alex felt it too. But he doesn't get to have this, he's not one of those people. There is something empty in him that means he _can't_ be loved.

"Yeah. But we—we didn't even do that much _talking_ ," Alex says, like they ever even needed to talk. They have known each other from the very beginning, said more with their bodies, their gestures more than any mere _language_ ever does. "And I wanna talk. I wanna start over. I wanna… I don't know. I wanna… be _friends_? I…"

Michael smiles, drops his head, telling himself now is not the time to find Alex sweet, endearing. Friends? _Them_? Impossible. Alex was always meant to break him, and _they_ were meant to be something far bigger than friends. Just as much as they were always supposed to _end_. So he laughs, looking at Alex, because Michael hasn't got a clue what he's supposed to say. And Alex keeps looking back at him, and _this_ , this is impossible.

"I wanna know who you _are,_ Guerin," Alex adds, like he doesn't _already_ know. Like he's not the only person in this world who has ever known him, really, better than anyone. So Michael's smile softens, letting himself take this moment. Letting himself pretend for a moment that he might truly matter to another person in this world. And then he doesn't _trust_ himself to answer. So he swallows, propels himself forward, letting himself get lost in Alex's eyes for a moment more. He has to cling on to this, then find the words to send Alex spinning back around.

"Do you wanna know who I am?" Michael asks as he steps closer. Alex's eyes dart over his face, and he neither answers, nor moves. Like he knows there is more to come from him and is waiting to hear him out. He even looks down at his mouth, because isn't this how things usually go between them? They try talking, but their _need_ for each other always wins out. "Or do you wanna know _what_ I am?"

Because he's more than just this _mess_ , this criminal, this drifter who will never belong. There is _more_ to him, a part of him that will always be from beyond the stars above. And if he shares that with Alex, then he'll be more vulnerable to him than he has ever known. But Alex knows _something_ , Michael is sure of it from the determination in his expression. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. Otherwise, he wouldn't be looking at him like he is now, like Michael is both something old, comforting to him, yet also something shiny and new, and worth discovering. Maybe _this_ will be the final thing to wedge between them, his _otherness,_ and Michael has wasted time in trying to force one himself.

Alex keeps looking at him, nodding before he even speaks. " _Yes_ ," he says, tears in his eyes and a tremor in his voice. It's the last thing Michael expects to hear, even if it's precisely what he hoped that he would. He keeps staring back, lost for what he's supposed to do now. The ground is shifting for him, and the tether holding him in place is staring back at him looking for answers. Michael pleads with Alex not to let him fall.


End file.
